So we had a family audition on Thursday.
My agent called and said, "We need you and Ziggy and how does your partner feel about being in an ad?"
When I told partner how much the ad was worth, partner felt very good about being in an ad. Partner felt great about it.
So we went along to the audition, baby girl in tow (Luca was at kinder).
We did our thing and went home – but not before the casting director fell in love with Harlow and added her to the package deal.
Her first audition at 7 months old. *sob*
We got a call Friday telling us we were "on hold" which means they like us for the gig but we haven't got the job yet.
I told Bren. He wondered what might be keeping us from getting the job. I told him we were obviously on a short list with another family….maybe one member of our family wasn't quite right.
"It was probably you!" I joked but as he laughed, I studied him carefully for possible flaws.
My agent called again.
Firstly, they couldn't use Harlow anymore. The call time for the shoot would be far too early to comply with Child Employment laws. Of course, this was a special kind of bullshit to me given Harlow wakes at some ungodly hour most nights.
And then, there was this.
"They want you to come back in. They want to make sure Ziggy will do the thing they need him to do. Practise doing the thing over the weekend, okay? Make sure he does it properly on Monday."
"Bren!" I called out, gleefully, "It wasn't you, babe! It was Ziggy! Ziggy is the problem!"
And then, my heart sank.
I knew we could practise the thing all weekend long and he could do the thing perfectly 1000 times in a row and still, if 9:30am Monday rolls around and Ziggy decides he doesn't feel like doing the thing, then nothing on God's green earth could make him.
Because he is three years old.
And because he is Ziggy.
"Hey Zig," I said, "Let's practise doing this." I demonstrated the thing.
"Can you do it, too?" I asked.
"Yesssss!" he cried in excitement and flung his entire body at me, his head smashing down hard against mine.
"Arrrrgggghhhhhhhh!" I screamed in agony, feeling the giant lump begin to swell above my right brow.
Ziggy began to scream and cry, too, but with shock and not from any injury I could detect. Apparently, his head is made of STEEL.
I held my head and thought about how the universe sometimes works in the most mysterious and IMMEDIATE ways.
Ziggy is three years old. He will not take direction unless he wants to. I can not force him to do 'the thing' and neither do I want anyone else to force him to do it. Because acting is only ever meant to be fun when you're a kid. And yes, I know time and money are at stake if they hire a kid who won't do what he's told but the question begs, what three-year-old can be 100% guaranteed to do exactly as they are asked? By their very nature, three-year-olds are fickle. Sometimes they can be bribed and sometimes, they are completely impervious to any such thing.
Zig might do it, probably will do it, almost certainly enough for them to get the shot, but I would not bet the farm on it. He could do it perfectly in the audition and completely refuse on the day of the shoot – or vice versa.
If they can find a three-year-old who can be relied upon 100%, then that is the kid they should hire.
When that little head of steel smashed into mine, I realised I did not want to put pressure on any of my kids over an acting job. Ever. Especially when they are only three years old.
So we'll head there early Monday (after dropping Luca at a kinder friend's house at 8:00am in the morning – thanks Gill! xxx) and what will be will be. We will get the job or we won't.
There will be no unrealistic expectations. But maybe a bribe or two….